


asphyxia

by Who Shot AR (akerwis)



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Breathplay, F/F, Female Characters, Kink Meme, Military, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Public Sex, sex while clothed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-02
Updated: 2010-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-10 01:32:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akerwis/pseuds/Who%20Shot%20AR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soon after Harcourt is made captain, she has a chance encounter with one of her colleagues. Written for the  <a href="http://ar.dreamwidth.org/378559.html">Temeraire kink meme</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	asphyxia

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was "Catherine/Jane, breathplay."

It was within the mess hall, long since emptied out and now quite dark but for the light of the full moon, that Roland's mouth found Harcourt's. Harcourt herself found a wall to her back and the body of her most highly esteemed of superiors (_colleagues_, she reminded herelf, for they were both captains now) pressed against her front. It was unexpected, it was not what was done, it was--

Bewitching. Roland was a better kisser by _far_ than the boys Harcourt had previously dallied with.

"S-sir," she managed, between long, demanding kisses that were starting, "should we really be--"

"Do you want to, Harcourt?" Roland asked, punctuating the question by working one of her legs between Harcourt's own and bore heavily against her with her thigh.

"_Yes_," Harcourt groaned, then quickly chastised herself, eyes darting around the empty room. "But--but here?"

"I have before." Roland's smile was positively wolfish. "We won't be interrupted if we do not linger, I assure you."

Harcourt considered for a fleeting moment before leaning forward and stealing a kiss of her own from Roland's lips. Finding that answer (and, Harcourt hoped, her own abilities) satisfactory, Roland twisted Harcourt's braid in one hand, grinding her against her once more. Harcourt returned the pressure in kind, the muscles of her thigh taut as she twisted against Roland's groin, and was immeasurably pleased to hear a moan escape Roland's throat.

It was not so unlike the hurried affairs of inexperienced young men and women (of which Harcourt had much knowledge), finding themselves on the eve of a battle or at the end of an exacting day; but for the fact that Roland's demanding nature so far exceeded those of Harcourt's previous partners, that kisses and furtive pleasure through their thin breeches became intoxicating rather than an idle distraction.

"I am going to do something," and her mouth was at Harcourt's neck, tongue flicking at the very edge of her earlobe, "which will not hurt you, if you do not panic."

"Yes," Harcourt breathed, "yes, sir."

Roland smiled again, brought her face up to Harcourt's without kissing her, and whispered, "Take a deep breath."

Harcourt gulped air for a moment, before she felt a sudden pressure on her throat. Wild-eyed, she looked at Roland, whose face entreated her to do as she was told and _not panic_, while the hand wrapped around Harcourt's lengthy hair was now also pressing up and inward below her jaw, cutting off the flow of air to her lungs. Her other hand undid Harcourt's breeches with a practiced deftness and found her, wet and aching, and wasted no time in plunging two fingers deep within her. Their bodies were as yet thrust together, line echoing line, with Roland's arm caught between, caressing her apace.

"Sir!" Harcourt tried to say, but could not, the requisite breath yet trapped in her chest and the feeling of gagging beginning to rise in her.

Roland felt her struggle and pressed her forehead to Harcourt's. "Do as I say, Harcourt."

She did, giving herself over to the movement of the hand between her legs and trying not to consider too thoroughly the hand at her throat. Her head was spinning, the pressure in her chest growing unbearable, and Roland was urging her on, little growls of sound near her earlobe, which Roland had between her teeth. As the world wobbled before her sight, she felt herself contract, every muscle in her abdomen clenching, the whole of her concerned with Roland's fingers and the agony in her lungs.

Roland allowed her breath at that moment, and air flooded her, cold where her throat had burned, lighting the nerves already fit to explode with pleasure. Harcourt collapsed into Roland, head on her shoulder, taking in great draws of air coloured with Roland's own scent, blessedly close after deprivation.

"And if you would find it tolerable to continue," Roland said, when Harcourt's breath was coming easily once more, "let us retire to someplace more intimate."


End file.
